Swallow the Tears
by Blacknoise
Summary: They're surrounded. It's all over. What transpires between Heero and Duo when the end stares them full in the face? Their comrades are dead, and they're next. Mild (VERY MILD) shounen-ai. R/R please!


I'm taking a bit of a break from "Carry on Dancing"

I'm taking a bit of a break from "Carry on Dancing". I think a one-shot story is just what I need to get the creative juices flowing. This is a dark fic. (death, etc.) a tiny, infinitesimal shred of shounen-ai. 

Swallow The Tears

-By Mizu no Senshi, the Water Warrior.

"QUATRE!!!!" Duo's voice broke over the com link. The Gundam Sandrock exploded in a round ball of flame, shot all to pieces by a thousand Mobile Dolls. The tiny blond Arab pilot didn't even have time to cry out in his brief moment of agony. 

He had been there, quaking in fear, oceanic eyes determined, as he awaited the end. They had been surrounded, totally outnumbered by the Dolls, led by The Tallgeese and Epyon. Namely, Treize and Zechs. Wufei, shrieking things about Justice and Nataku being the vessel of judgment, hurled himself through the void of space, sheathed in his Shenlong, prepared to do battle with the Head of the World Nation. 

The skirmish (it could hardly be called a battle!) ended abruptly with the Gundam of the Solitary Dragon being neatly impaled upon Treize's Beam sword.Wufei's strangled cry of pained outrage was heard seconds before he died, his mech disintegrating under the harsh radiation of the plasma weapon.

And Quatre had wept.

Then, in a blaze of enraged fury, the silent Nanashi had leaped into the fray, shooting down black Taurus Dolls left and right in a desperate rage. No one had ever seen Trowa Barton panic before, and they never would again. Screaming obscenities, with crystal tears coursing down his cheeks, Trowa, in Heavyarms, let loose a barrage of shots from his twin gattling guns like never before. No one fought with him. Heero sat, in silence and seeming indifference, in the cockpit of Wing Zero. Duo Maxwell, restrained only by Wing Zero's powerful grip on Deathscythe Hell's arm, swore violently, struggling to get loose to aid his comrade in the futile clash.

"Don't," Heero said coldly, his voice stabbing Duo's conscience like twin daggers, "You'll only get yourself killed."

Duo was incredulous. "You want me to let my comrade DIE?! That's fucking WRONG, Yuy! How can you…"

"Shut up." Heero snapped. Duo jerked in surprise. "Don't think I'm happy about this, baka."

Zechs' voice had hissed to them over their communications devices suddenly. "You're all too young to be fighting in a war that you don't understand." The icy Peacecraft growled. From his vantage point, the young pilot of Gundam 01 saw the Epyon readying its whiplike tail.

Heero barked a warning to the frenzied 03. "Trowa…!"

The Heavyarms spun around, a little too late. "Noooo…" moaned Quatre, sobbing pathetically. The whip circled around the high-ammo Gundam and clenched it. Trowa's screams assaulted them all. This death was slow, articulated. Like a python crushing a deer, Epyon's tail contracted slowly, the Gundam 03 falling apart at a snail's pace. Inside the cockpit, Trowa was gradually crushed alive. Before the twisted metal and escaping oxygen could overwhelm him, he managed to gasp out the name of the one he loved.

"…Quatre…"

And then he'd died, with a piece of his beloved Heavyarms impaling him from behind.

And Quatre had wept.

The diminutive blond heir wailed his grief to the unforgiving stars in a torrent of sobs. "Oh, Allah," the Arab keened, "Why… why Trowa…"

Unrelenting as ever, Heero had snarled at the aquamarine-eyed pilot. "Get yourself together, Quatre!" The smaller boy flinched, each of Heero's words were like violent blows to his person. "We won't win with tears."

"We won't win, anyhow!" Duo had yelled, his voice cracking in his terror. He didn't know that Death could be that cruel, making him suffer, and forcing him to watch as his comrades became the latest casualties in a war that never should have been. Then, the braided boy set his jaw and pulled his mouth, against its will, into that telltale manic grin. "Looks like my date with the Devil's been moved up on my priority list!" he chuckled darkly. Even one of his Death/Hell-related comments couldn't mask the fear in his voice. This was really the end of the road, no Hell-sent luck would save them now. After all, they were the Damned.

Quatre had crumbled into despairing little noises, his hands shaking as he clutched them about himself. Duo shifted Deathscythe Hell over protectively, shielding the inactive Sandrock from Treize and Zechs. The black Gundanium arm of the advanced Deathscythe slipped behind its back and retrieved a rapidly elongating staff. Once at its full length, twin glowing plasma blades burst from one end, flaming a verdant green to match the demon Gundam's "eyes". 

"Just try it," Duo said in a terrifying voice. Death was ready to die.

But he didn't. Not yet.

Maxwell felt a rough jerk as he was shoved aside by Gundam 04, Sandrock. The Winner heir held his scimitar-like weapons ready. A hideous, murderous snarl contorted his beautiful, boyish face. Nothing but ugly things issued from his rosebud mouth.

"Kisama…!!!!!!" Quatre had then thrown himself, scimitars glowing crimson, straight at Zechs. The rubicund blades shot from Sandrock's hands in a flurry of spiraling motion. Zechs, infused with Epyon's heightened battle senses, dodged the attack, but not before suffering a large gaping hole in the shoulder of his evil mech. A little surprised, the Lightning Count sent a signal to the Mobile Dolls.

"QUATRE!!!!" Duo's voice broke over the com link. The Gundam Sandrock exploded in a round ball of flame, shot all to pieces by a thousand Dolls. The tiny blond Arab pilot didn't even have time to cry out in his brief moment of agony. 

And now, here they were. 01 and 02. The last of the legendary Gundam Pilots. Shinigami and the Perfect Soldier. The God of Death and the Prince of the Stars. Heero Yuy and Duo Maxwell.

"Heero," Duo reached out, sounding like a lost child. They were surrounded. It was hopeless.

A weak "Hn…" was his only response. Heero was nervous?!

Gundams 01 and 02, this is the Virgo. You are completely surrounded. Surrender now, and your lives will be spared. Resistance is futile.

Dorothy!? That was the voice of Romafeller's Dorothy Catalonia, the warmonger. So, she was one of the bigwigs behind all this. Duo might have known. 

"Give no response, 02." Heero was being formal… that meant that he was afraid. He drew his soldier's mask around him, and shut out the world, hoping to sort through the turmoil inside. Duo observed Heero a lot, so he knew what was going on inside the stoic pilot.

"Understood, 01." Duo could be just as formal in the face of death. 

There was a pause.

"Duo…?"

"…Yeah, man?"

"I…I guess this is the end,hn?" Heero's voice was shaky, very out of character.

"Yeah, I guess it is," Duo fiddled with a spike of broken glass. Absently, he drew it across his wrists, bright red lines of blood appearing instantly. It ran quickly down his arms, splashing the console in front of him. But Shinigami didn't care one iota. It was all over, the final sacrifice had to be made. He hung his head, allowing his chestnut brown bangs to obscure the dead violet eyes.

Heero watched the gruesome scene unfold in horror. What was Duo doing?! "Duo!" he shouted to the motionless figure displayed on one of his vidscreens. In response, the black-shrouded figure's thin shoulders shook silently. The faintest noise come over the speakers and into his ears. Laughter. Duo's soft, unnerving laughter. 

Another chuckle. "Heh… Heero, man, we're late…" Duo rasped.

Heero frowned. "What?"

"We're long overdue in Hell," was Duo's simple reply.

Duo looked up, into the camera that sent his image to his fellow pilot. Heero recoiled in surprise. Bloody tears streaked the cheeks of the God of Death, and his face, normally flushed with youthful vigor, was wan and pale, ashen in his surrender. His mouth, a mouth that should have been smiling, was instead pulled into an ugly grimace. "Join the party, Soldier Boy," he hissed sadly.

Abandoning the last of his training, Heero Yuy pulled out the small knife that he always carried, and slit his wrists, numb as always to the pain. And then the Wing Zero pilot began to laugh as well. It was a harsh sound, bitter and rueful.

This is your final warning, pilots, Dorothy sneered, The Epyon and Tallgeese are converging on your units. Give up now, or be destroyed.

True enough, the two advanced Mobile Suits were beelining straight for them. 

Duo turned to his last comrade. "I don't know about you, man, but I don't want to die by _their_ hands. Let's do this _our_ way." He made an obvious reach for the joystick-like self-detonation device. 

"Nimmu… Ryoukai…" Heero whispered*, also reaching for his device.

"Mission: Accepted," choked Duo. "Aishiteru, man."

"Me, too, baka," murmured the paling Perfect Soldier. "Let's open the comm. links, ne? Show Treize and Milliardo who we really are"

"Sure, man." Duo reached one bloodied hand to his communications panel and flipped to 'Open Broadcast.'

All over the world (and the colonies), all televisions and vidphones bore a split screen image of a blue-eyed Japanese boy with blood streaking his white cheeks, and a beautiful American boy with once-luminous eyes that were dull and unfeeling in the end.

"Men and Women of the Earth and Colonies, of Cinq ( A/N: Sank, the way it should be spelled) and of OZ alike, I am Heero Yuy, pilot of Wing Zero Gundam" Heero began.

Treize and Zechs, trailed by their Dolls, were rapidly closing in on the dying boys.

"… And I am Duo Maxwell, pilot of Gundam Deathscythe Hell." Duo followed his friend's lead, speaking in a dead monotone.

"We have killed friends of yours,"

"…And we have destroyed your enemies."

"The only time we needed public aid, it was refused us, and we were attacked."

"Our only goal was to achieve peace through the victory of this war."

"But the time for us Gundams is over."

At this, Treize slowed his attack, faltering. They wouldn't…

"And so we leave this world. May God have mercy on your souls." Duo finished.

Zechs smiled. _Perfectly played, boys. Right until the end._ There was no way he could escape the blast on time. The boys were taking as many people with them on their journey into Darkness as possible. Admirable.

In perfect, calculated unison, Duo and Heero raised their arms to the perfect center of the screens. Both of them drifted away for a second, their blood flowing onto the floors of their cockpits instead of through them. Their thumbs clicked the tiny red buttons simultaneously.

And, even after the Wing Zero, Deathscythe Hell, Tallgeese, and Epyon were long gone, ripped to shreds by the twin sub-nuclear explosions, the final words of the last Gundam pilots resonated in the ears of the public below. 

"Mission: Complete."

*~OWARI~*

So… what did you all think?!?!? What I want you guys to do, really, though, is to check out my other story, Carry on Dancing. It's a bit review-starved at the moment. So R/R this, and I'll get back on with CoD. ^_^Thanx, TWW!!! 

*Thanks, Kirstin! (oh, and for those of you who wonder, they slit their wrists so that they'd feel no pain! Hope that clarifies!)


End file.
